Standing in the Middle of It

Have you ever had a miracle happen to you?

An uncertain miracle, maybe—but a miracle nonetheless.

The kind that makes you unbelievably excited one moment, completely overwhelmed the next, and then, somehow, guilty.

Guilty that this miracle is happening for you when you know there’s someone else out there desperately wishing it were happening for them.

It feels a little like survivor’s guilt.

But it’s not.

I’m not actually sure what you call it.

I just know that lately, I can go from feeling overwhelmingly grateful to wondering whether I’m even allowed to be that happy about it.

And that’s a strange place to sit.

That’s sort of what’s been happening to me lately.

Last week, I told you I hadn’t disappeared. And I haven’t.

There’s just been a lot happening quietly behind the scenes. A lot occupying my thoughts. A lot I’m still processing before I’m ready to put words around all of it.

I thought that by this week I’d be ready to jump back into the adventures I’ve been sharing here—the campgrounds, the winding roads, the places we’ve wandered, and the stories still waiting to be told.

But I’m not.

And rather than force myself to write something lighthearted when my mind is somewhere completely different, I thought maybe this was a better time to pause.

Because I have a feeling I’m not the only person who has ever received something wonderful and then felt guilty for being the one who got it.

So, for just a moment, I want to pause the excitement that’s been brewing in this little blog series of mine and wander somewhere a little deeper.

Into gratitude.

Into uncertainty.

And into the strange guilt that can sometimes find its way into even the happiest moments.

I guess, if I’m being honest, I’m writing this post for selfish reasons.

Because I haven’t decided how I’m supposed to feel yet.

And I need someone to tell me I’m not alone on this one.

I need to know that someone else has had something really, really good happen to them and somehow found themselves feeling guilty about it.

Like maybe being too excited would be insensitive.

Like celebrating too loudly might hurt someone who is still waiting for the very thing that somehow found its way to you.

And the weirdest part is, no one has made me feel this way.

No one has told me I shouldn’t be excited. No one has made me feel guilty for being happy.

I’ve done that all on my own.

Because when you know what it feels like to desperately hope for something, it can be hard to let yourself fully celebrate when suddenly, unexpectedly, you’re the one holding it.

So maybe I’m writing this because I need to work through that.

Or maybe I just need someone, somewhere, to read this and say—

Yeah. I’ve felt that too.

Typically, I don’t like to write into the unknown.

I don’t like to leave something wide open when I feel like I have no ending.

I like to find meaning in my words—and in my thoughts. I like to sit with something long enough to understand what it was trying to teach me before I share it here.

But I haven’t yet.

I don’t have some beautiful realization to tie all of this together. I don’t have the lesson hidden somewhere underneath it. I don’t even really know if I’m supposed to be trying to find one yet.

And I think that’s okay, too.

Maybe sometimes we’re allowed to just be in it.

To be grateful and confused.

Excited and scared.

To know something is good while still having complicated feelings about the goodness of it.

Maybe not everything needs to make sense while it’s happening.

And maybe I don’t need to wait until I’m standing on the other side of something to write about what it felt like to stand right in the middle of it.

I guess the reality is, receiving something good when you know others have prayed and wished for the same thing doesn’t make me guilty.

Blessed, maybe.

But not guilty.

And that can be a hard pill to swallow sometimes.

Maybe part of learning to accept that for myself is realizing I want my little boy to grow up knowing it, too.

I want him to care deeply about what other people are going through, but I also want him to know he’s allowed to celebrate the good things that find him. Someone else’s hurt doesn’t mean he has to make his own joy smaller.

I’ve never enjoyed being the center of attention. And as a writer, I’ve never expected my words to be anything more than just that—

Words on a page.

But with this one, I hope they reach a little further.

I hope they find someone sitting in the same strange space I’ve found myself in lately. Someone trying to understand how something so good can somehow carry so many complicated feelings with it.

Someone wondering if they’re allowed to be excited when they know someone else is still waiting.

I hope, somehow, these words add a little comfort to their life.

Because maybe that’s the meaning I was looking for when I started writing this.

Maybe I didn’t need to figure out exactly how I’m supposed to feel.

Maybe I just needed to say it out loud so I would feel less alone.

And maybe you needed to hear it, too.

You’re not alone.